


Triple Threat

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-06 19:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: Three roommates. The first, stuck brewing a hallucinogenic potion for the party of a lifetime. The second, troubled by his small glimpse into the future. The third, reunited with his long-dead best friend.--Haikyuu!! Halloween Week '18





	1. Magic [Kuroo]

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is a lot less serious than the summary

"Are you insane?" Kuroo grabbed at vial that drifted over his head. The purple glow that surrounded it didn't let up, wrenching itself from his grasp. "That entire plan is chaotic evil."

Bokuto hummed, shrugging as he waved his hand, and the vial vaulted across the room, smashing against Kuroo's closet door and littering the ground with shards of glass. He groaned and slipped off the side of the bed, cautiously making his way to the steaming puddle of blue liquid.

Kuroo scrambled up, nearly falling on his back as he struggled to stand upright. "Dude! Get that cleaned up! Our lease isn't even halfway over yet," he panicked. The blue puddle was starting to simmer and bubble, and the acrid odor of burning wood began to waft through the air. It stung their eyes and incited a round of coughing that strained their lungs.

Through watery eyes, Kuroo fumbled around his desk, grabbing at other vials that shone in various colors. Their labels all started to blur in his eyesight when he finally made out the blurry shape of the word 'emergency' and jerked the cork out, splashing it blindly towards, what he hoped was, the source of the acid.

His friend yelped, and Kuroo could only imagine that he'd accidentally gotten some on him as well. The sizzling subsided, and the air gradually cleared, leaving them both with fresh air, which they heaved the moment they could breathe properly.

"Which one was that?" Bokuto croaked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. A few tears escaped his notice and rolled down his cheeks as he blinked incessantly. Kuroo coughed, hacking until his lungs felt like shriveling up and falling out. He took another breath and choked, falling into another fit of coughing.

Bokuto lifted his hand and waved it, making indecipherable motions, and a discarded towel started to glow purple, levitating from its place on the table and flying jerkily towards Kuroo. He took it gratefully and brought it to his mouth, inhaling a breath of sweat-stained cloth.

"Gross," he muttered, tossing it over his head. Bokuto got the hint immediately and just before it collapsed against the ground, paused and flew into the laundry bin. "Could you practice levitation using some of your stuff? You know, instead of potentially harmful potions?"

He gestured at the ground, and they both glanced down forlornly at the blackened wood. The blue puddle had cleared, leaving behind water and charred wood.

"The landlady is going to kill us, isn't she?" Kuroo moaned. He rubbed his forehead in exasperation as Bokuto pouted at the stain. He bent down and scratched at the wood, coming up with a black fingertip.

"I mean, maybe not?" he said, observing his finger. Even with fucked up vision, Kuroo could tell that the damage was severe, and the black residue on Bokuto's finger wasn't helping. "She's let us off the hook before. Maybe she'll let us off again."

That was true. Their shenanigans had gotten them into worse troubles before, such as having to replace an entire kitchen and nearly drowning their neighbors in a 'friendly' prank competition. Hey, it wasn't Kuroo's fault Bokuto had set off the wrong potion.

"What was that?" Bokuto repeated nodding at the empty vial that sat in Kuroo's hand. He lifted it and Bokuto shook his head. "Just because it says emergency doesn't mean I'll know what it is, man. I nearly failed—"

"—failed potions," Kuroo finished. "Yeah, I know. Especially after you nearly blew up Nekomata's lab."

Bokuto groaned heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "Don't remind me."

Kuroo raised a brow, his lips extending in one direction as he smirked at his best friend. "Remind you? Dude, you didn't just fail. You got kicked out, never allowed back in. Banished for life. Literally. I can't believe he put that spell on you either. And come to think of it, you nearly got me kicked out too."

His friend held up a hand in defeat, then pointed at the potion bottle.

He shook the vial, seeing a few remaining drops of clear liquid splash around the glass. "Oh, this? This is just a cancelling potion. Harmless. It cancels out whatever potion had been previously administered. I have a stash of these in case you or blood sucker in the other room," he jerked a thumb over towards the door, "ever drop a flask."

A pounding on their wall caught their attention, followed by an indignant, "I heard that!"

"Love you too," Bokuto called. Another thump bounced through the wall in response. "Anyway, let me see it?" He barely finished when the vial was surrounded by another purple hue and torn from Kuroo's grip.

"Dude," Kuroo protested. It levitated over to Bokuto, who took firm hold of it and lifted the opening to his nose.

"Doesn't smell like anything," he muttered.

Kuroo threw up his hands. "It's not supposed to smell like anyth—don't taste it!" It was halfway up to Bokuto's face, and his intention was clear: taste the potion. With a slight pout, his friend lowered the vial and let it levitate back to Kuroo, who snatched it out of the air.

"I wasn't going to taste it," he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Kuroo snorted and let it clatter onto his desk. "You totally were." He ignored his incessant muttering and set about to clean his room, thrown into array when he'd leapt off his bed. Swooping down and grabbing his potions book, he turned up his lip as he noticed he'd lost his page. With a glance at the empty mini cauldron on his desk, he sighed and rubbed his forehead.

Choosing to procrastinate was the best decision he'd made.

"So anyway, about before," Bokuto started, settling on his desk chair. His eyes flickered to the charred ground. "I still think it's a good idea to use your hallucinating potion thing at the party, assuming Terushima's throwing it at his place this year."

Kuroo glanced at him briefly with a brow cocked. "That's basically spiking the punch. It'd cause pandemonium—you know that."

Bokuto spun in his chair, coming to a stop in front of the closet door. Then he maneuvered himself so that he could face Kuroo easily, who was now flipping through his book. "Chaotic evil. I don't know, Bo. We don't usually cross the threshold for chaotic good, or neutral for that matter."

With a flick of his wrist and a sigh of resignation, he shut the book and tossed it next to his cauldron and threw himself onto his bed with a huff. Bokuto started to spin again, this time levitating Kuroo's discarded book to himself and flipped through the pages. He hummed as he searched, making approving noises in his throat that had Kuroo itching to throw him out.

"Ah!" When he tilted his head up, his face was slapped by his book, glowing purple and hovering in front of him.

"Dude!" he protested again; this time, he actually sounded like their haughty vampire of a roommate. Bokuto didn't bother apologizing, excitement causing him to sit up straighter as he gazed at Kuroo for approval.

"There, look!"

Turning his glare from his friend, Kuroo eyed the page wearily. And there it was: two pages of instruction on how to create a hallucinogenic potion. Skimming the pages, he quirked his lips.

This was actually doable.

"This...may actually work," he said, catching the book just as it lost its glow. Sitting up, he ignored Bokuto's cheering. "It says that this can be diluted, meaning we won't cause too much havoc, so the effects won't be permanent." Doing a few calculations in his head, he nodded, "Yeah, ok. Ok. If I do this right, then it can last a few hours, enough to last during the party."

"So are we doing this?" Bokuto asked excitedly.

"Only if you buy the ingredients."

"Deal!"


	2. Time Travel [Bokuto]

"Gotta get the ingredients. Gotta get—" Bokuto looked down at his notebook, barely hearing Yamiji as he explained the gravitational mechanisms of levitation and flight. Cocking his head, he drummed his fingers against the desk, leg bouncing in anticipation. Halloween was in a week, and he had to collect everything in three days, lest Kuroo not have enough time to complete their, well _his_ , ingenious plan.

Something clattered against his desk, and he glanced up, eyes wide with confusion. Yamiji stood in front of him, arms crossed with a brow raised, eyes flat as he stared at Bokuto. A cough echoed around the room, and with a sinking realization, he realized all the attention was on him.

"Did you hear anything I said in the past thirty minutes, Bokuto? What was I talking about?" Yamiji asked, monotonous. All eyes were on him.

"Uh, gravity's effect on levitation and the human body if flight is attempted," he answered, though it sounded more like a question, stilted and hesitant.

"And then?"

At that, he was lost, mouth opening and closing without a word. Yamiji stayed in position, watching Bokuto flounder for at least five more minutes before turning to his neighbor. "Konoha, what did I say next?"

Luckily for Bokuto, Konoha also had no idea, having slept through most of the lesson. But at least all the attention in the room had shifted. Yamiji didn't even sound mad, just resigned, like he'd given up. With a shake of his head, he turned back to his podium.

"For those of you who weren't paying attention," he said, eyes flashing to Bokuto and Konoha, causing them to squirm uncomfortably, "we're moving on to the next unit, cursed objects. In front of each of you is a different object with a different effect. Your assignment for the next week is to figure out what your object does and how it affects you. They aren't dangerous, but I'd still use caution. Have a happy Halloween."

With that, class was dismissed. A glint in the light stole Bokuto's attention, and he found himself picking up a small pendant, the size of a coin.

"What do you do?" he asked quietly, watching it swing from its chain.

 

\--

 

Bokuto could have sworn he had fallen asleep at his apartment the moment he got home from classes. Exhausted and still reeling from the embarrassment he experienced in class, he had dropped his bag next to the sofa and thrown himself on, burying his face in the mismatched decoration pillows Oikawa had insisted on.

And now, as he blearily woke, he blinked in confusion at the bright lights that streamed through large windows adorned by transparent curtains.

_Wait_.

Transparent curtains? Large windows?

His apartment had measly windows that a person, let alone dog, could barely squeeze through. With a jerk, he sat up, head spinning from the sudden movement. And that's when he realized he was no longer at his apartment.

Instead, he was in a much nicer building, judging by the immaculate, unpeeled white walls and wood accent decor. Just ahead, there was a closet, each door spanning the length of his arm rather than the one at home, which creaked and splintered whenever he tried to open it; this one had no chipped pieces that threatened to leave splinters in his fingers. And dresser had a few pictures that sat in simple frames. From a distance, he only saw two figures in those photos.

A slight groan caught his attention, and he whipped his head down.

And that's when Bokuto Koutarou could safely say he had died and gone to heaven.

Because lying next to him, barely passing into the world of the awake, was the most beautiful young man he'd ever seen.

His mouth went dry, and he scooted away, nearly collapsing off the bed. Scratch that, he fell into a heap of blankets and pillows as he planted his ass onto the plush carpet with a loud yelp. The force must have awakened the beautiful stranger because not long after, he reappeared, peering over the edge.

"Bokuto-san?" God, even his voice was lovely. That, along with his sleep-addled gaze and dark tufts that curled around his neck, was enough for Bokuto to make a strangled noise in the back of his throat. The young man blinked, mouth curled down in irritation, and breathed in deeply. "I told you not to watch that movie. Did it give you nightmares again?"

"Wha—"

The stranger pulled back, followed by a soft grunt as he collapsed back in bed. "Never mind. I'm going back to bed. I'll make you a cup of tea later."

Still stunned, it took a good minute before Bokuto was able to pull himself up, wide eyed and horribly confused. The stranger faced away from the light, hugging a pillow tight to his chest as he breathed deeply, seemingly fast asleep.

He stared at the stranger for a moment, heart thundering in his chest. Then he slowly crept away, heading for the dresser that stood next to the door. And the figures in the photos became clear.

It was—him? _Him_ _and the stranger?_

They portrayed moments that Bokuto had no memory of, no recollection. The stranger kissing his reddened cheeks. Him reciprocating with a rushed kiss on the crown of the stranger's head, face flushed with happiness. A trip to the beach with him, his roommates, the stranger, and another figure that stood next to Oikawa, somewhat transparent and very disgruntled. One of a dinner party—no, a _wedding_.

Whose? Apparently his.

Choking, he held up his left hand, shaking as the light glinted off the gold band that sat on his ring finger.

Oh god, he was _married_.

Slowly, he turned back to the stranger and crept closer, taking care not to make any noise even though the plush carpet did a great job of muffling his footsteps. In front of him, Bokuto leaned in closer and furrowed his brows.

He had managed to marry someone like _him_ , literally the most perfect person he'd ever seen in his life. Even models and actors had nothing on this guy. Suddenly, he wanted to make sure, so he lightly peeled the covers off the young man, who exhaled heavily against the pillow, lashes fluttering. His left hand hid underneath under his cheek, and Bokuto leaned down, squinting hard.

There it was.

An identical band wrapped around his finger.

"Bokuto-san?"

Oh shit, the young man was awake. He scrambled back, falling against the carpet with his breath held. Guilty. Caught in the act.

"Are we married?" he blurted, then cupped his mouth in shock.

The stranger wasn't even the least bit fazed. He only patted the space to his side. "Just come back to bed. It's too early for this."

Not wanting to disappoint, Bokuto nodded and stood, walking around the bed to the side that was apparently his and lay in it cautiously.

"And for your information, we are. Have been for the past six years."

_Six years??_

He blinked again, and suddenly, he was staring up at the cracked ceiling of his apartment. Disoriented, he sat up and gazed around the dimmed room. At the familiar yellowed carpet and the orange sunset that barely streamed through the dusty blinds. At the stack of Nikes, Adidas, and Converse piled haphazardly next to the door.

And then he realized there was something gripped tightly in his fist. Lifting it, he gazed in wonder at the pendant that swung back and forth.

"Who was that?" he wondered.

The pendant didn't answer.


	3. Vampires [Oikawa]

"So you have no idea who that was?" Oikawa asked, leaning heavily against the back of the sofa, one arm propped up to support his head. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulled at some of the roots and snapped his focus back to Bokuto, who threw his arms out.

His long, bulky limbs nearly smacked into Oikawa, who used to his habits, curled his body back to avoid being hit by a large fist. Then Bokuto drew in his arms and buried his face into his fists, a loud sigh exhaling from his mouth.

"No! But he was the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life," he whimpered, drawing his legs up to his chest. Oikawa hummed and leaned down to scoop his wine glass from the coffee table, red liquid sloshing against the glass.

"Are you sure it wasn't just a dream? Or do you really think that was a glimpse into the future?" he asked. Swirling his drink, he took a sip and enjoyed the way it slid down his throat. His friend snapped his head up, lips pouting as he held out a fist.

In it, dangled a small pendant.

He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes to peer closely at the design. It wasn't one he was familiar with.

"I don't know tha—"

"It had to be the future," Bokuto insisted, shoving it closer to Oikawa, who leaned back in caution. The old, weathered sofa didn't need any more stains decorating its colorful mess. "I was holding onto this for dear life when I woke up. I don't even remember holding it before falling asleep."

The pendant was old, so weathered and beaten up that it had lost its shine, barely glinting against the fluorescent lights. The chain, however, was brand new. "And you're a hundred percent sure this was the future." His tone held doubt, brows raised high as he took another sip from the glass.

At that, Bokuto faltered and drew the pendant close to his chest. His expression fell, frown marring his face. The result made Oikawa feel as if he'd kicked a puppy not once but multiple times. He quirked the corner of his lips and lowered the glass from his lips.

"Look, maybe it _was_ the future. What would you do? Would you keep hoping to meet this stranger? It might be safer to either assume this was a vision that you _want_ to occur later in the future or a dream than to believe that it's going to happen," Oikawa said, "It'll save you a lot of heartbreak if you don't go in with any high hopes."

"Yeah," his roommate responded, still evidently dejected judging by the slump in his shoulders. "You're probably right."

Oikawa set down the glass and placed a hand on his shoulder. "If you keep expecting to meet this person, then you're going to end up holding yourself back from so many potential people. Maybe it's best to pretend you never saw this person—carry on with your life and who knows? He might be around the corner."

Bokuto nodded, eyes still downcast and mouth still pursed in a pout. His folded his arms and sat back, still bobbing his head in thought. Finally, he gave up and let his arms fall to his side. "You're right."

Oikawa sat up, cocking his head and reaching for his glass. "Of course I am. I almost always right."

At that, Bokuto scrunched up his face, wrinkling his nose as if he'd been subjected to the horrors of garbage and sewage. Then his eyes fell on the glass, stem held delicately between Oikawa's fingers. He nodded at it and asked, "What is that? Wine or blood?"

Oikawa swirled the liquid and brought the rim to his lips. "Take a guess."

 

\--

 

Sitting on his bed, Oikawa glanced down at the thick spell book sitting on his lap, weighing down heavily on his thighs and causing the bed to dip further than it normally did. He runs his tongue along his teeth, feeling them scrape against the small fangs he rarely used.

Biting was always a messy activity, and he had stained enough of his clothes—enough for his parents to threaten to instill a budget if he didn't keep careful. Luckily, he had other means, especially when he'd entered university. Namely, the shop next to campus, which sold countless bags of donated blood.

And yes, they were all legally obtained.

Setting his wine glass on his nightstand, he flipped through the pages and read through the instructions. After doing this for years, you would think he'd have memorized it all, but no. Here he was, scanning through familiar ingredients and steps.

In the middle of muttering the phrases that felt like second nature to his tongue, an explosion rocked through his room, shaking his bed and sending tremors through the walls. The wine glass trembled and shook itself off the nightstand, sending strokes of blood soaking into the carpet.

"No!" he exclaimed, throwing the book aside. If there was one thing he hated more than biting, it was cleaning blood. Deep within the recesses of his brain, he knew his night would be dedicated to a bucket filled with cold water, some soap, and a sponge.

Tendrils of smoke slid underneath his doorway, and he stood, clenching his hands into fists. Then he stomped to the door and threw it open, face met with billows of smoke.

"What the hell?" he coughed. Even without his sensitive hearing, he could hear the hacking come from the kitchen. Waving a hand and covering his mouth and nose with the other, he narrowed his watering eyes against the acrid smoke and made his way blindly into the living room.

Bokuto still resided on the sofa, decorative pillow shoved against his face as he tried not to inhale any of the clouds of black that littered their apartment. Oikawa scanned the room, and there he was. The culprit. Standing in the middle of the kitchen with his stupid cauldron in his glove-encased hands.

"You," Oikawa snarled, glaring daggers at Kuroo's silhouette. Bokuto staggered off the sofa to open at the window, and that made things a little more bearable. Slowly, his roommates became visible, and Kuroo stood sheepishly at the sink, cauldron now sitting on the counter.

"I, uh," he started, gesturing at the mess, "I was working on something."

"No shit," Bokuto coughed, walking over to peer at the sink. "Dude, you melted it. There goes our deposit."

Oikawa scoffed, making his way over next to Bokuto to survey the damage. Wow, he hadn't just melted it—the entirety of the sink and its pipes were visible, and if he leaned over, he knew he'd see the hole in the ground. "I'm pretty sure our deposit is already gone. Landlady is going to murder us this time."

"Easy for you to say," Bokuto said. "You're technically already dead."

"That's stereotypical. My heart works just fine."

"Liar." This came from Kuroo, and the duo looked at each other before bursting into laughter, sink damage forgotten in their magic-leaden brains.

His eye twitched in response.

Sometimes, Oikawa loved his roommates.

Sometimes, he hated them.


	4. Costumes [Oikawa]

"How does this one look?" Bokuto stepped out from behind the curtain, and both Kuroo and Oikawa grimaced. The yellow clashed terribly with his hair and made him look like an overgrown, unripe tomato.

"Uhh."

"Terrible," Oikawa took the fall for both him and Kuroo. Bokuto frowned and glanced down. "What's that supposed to be anyway?"

His roommate shrugged in response, a difficult gesture judging by how his shoulders strained against the costume. Any more movement, and there was a very possible chance that it would tear, possibly in half. Kuroo noticed as well, and waved his hands in a shooing motion.

"Go change into some of the others you found. Maybe those will be better," he suggested. His best friend nodded and disappeared again. Oikawa heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, a move that Kuroo simultaneously mimicked.

When Bokuto had asked to go costume shopping, Oikawa wasn't sure why he thought this would be a ten minute endeavor. Any event with Bokuto could drag on for hours on end, at best, one hour if Oikawa was lucky.

With pain-in-the-ass Kuroo, their time out almost always elongated to over three hours. That is, unless he had an assignment. Then, Oikawa doesn't know how, Kuroo would manage to cut their time in half by manipulating Bokuto into leaving early.

"My legs are sore," Kuroo complained under his breath. With his sensitive hearing, Oikawa caught that like he had shouted it at him. Turning to give him a side-eye, he scoffed and twisted his body to angle towards him.

"What, can't handle a few minutes?" Kuroo scowled in response. In truth, Oikawa's legs were also beginning to tire from standing in one position for so long. If only this stupid costume shop had chairs to relax in.

He debated plopping onto the ground until he saw the gum that stuck to the surface, slick and recently spat out. No doubt that sitting on top would lead to a fell swoop in Oikawa's mood. As if he weren't irritated enough.

Some shuffling came from within the changing space, and there was a thump and a sharp "Ouch!"

"You good, bro?" Kuroo called, dragging a hand through his hair. It didn't help much, flopping back into position. Oikawa wasn't sure how the hell he could see through one eye with the other almost constantly hidden beneath that lock of hair he so desperately wanted to snip off.

"I'm okay!" Bokuto called back. Then he reappeared from behind the curtain. Somehow, a werewolf didn't look terrible, but Oikawa wasn't too fond of the entire costume. Bokuto as a werewolf could work. That is if he didn't look like—

"You look like Chewbacca," Kuroo stated, blunt as ever. This time, Bokuto didn't bother trying to defend it, nodding in agreement.

"It's itchy too. I'm going to try on the next one," he said and disappeared.

Oikawa's brow twitched. This was—what—the seventh costume already? Sure, Terushima's party was going to be costume themed, but did Bokuto have to go all the way with this?

He crouched down, setting all his weight onto his feet and wiped down his face with exasperation. Kuroo glanced at him, arms still crossed. As if he could read Oikawa's thoughts, he muttered, "Just let him have this."

Oikawa sighed. "I know. He's been pretty down after the whole pendant thing. But what else could I say? I didn't want to get his hopes up, you know?"

Kuroo shrugged in response. Oikawa knew he understood, but a Bokuto who was down wasn't a fun Bokuto. His endless moping had left the entire apartment gloomy and dim, even more so with their shitty window. This was what they dubbed his 'emo mode'.

To Oikawa, Bokuto's mood was like a kite. There was usually enough wind and sunshine to keep it proud and high in the sky. But when tragedy struck like lightning, it would plummet to the ground, burning and difficult to recover.

With time, though, Oikawa was sure it would blow past. How much time—he didn't know, but the sooner the better.

"What do you think it was?" Kuroo asked, still muttering. They both glanced at the curtains where they could hear shuffling and humming as Bokuto tugged on his next costume.

"I honestly don't know," he responded. "It could be a lot of things. The future is possible, but the guy in his dreams could have been that—the man of his dreams. Who knows what that pendant was supposed to show?"

"True, true," Kuroo conceded, "As long as he's able to distinguish reality with fantasy, he'll be fine." And they both lapsed into silence.

"I mean, he said it was the most beautiful man alive," Oikawa sniffed, "That's a little hard to imagine."

Kuroo shrugged again, "I mean, beauty is subjective. You're beautiful to some people. Bo is beautiful to others, and hell, even I'm beautiful to some." Then he tipped his head, flopping his hair back with what Oikawa could only assume was supposed to be a charming smile.

"Gross," he responded. Kuroo clenched his fist to his chest, feigning hurt.

Suddenly, the curtain was thrown to the side to reveal a black mass with a shock of white hair. It took a moment for Oikawa to make sense of what he was seeing.

Now Bokuto had a cape wrapped around himself, arm outstretched to cover his body up to the bottom of his eyes. He let his eyebrows bounce up and down twice before dramatically flourishing his cape aside to reveal his costume.

It was ornate—Oikawa gave him that. But it was the fangs in his mouth that had him cocking a brow.

"I am...Dracula!" he leered, outstretching his arms to curl his fingers into claws.

"Racist," Oikawa said, running a tongue along his own fangs, and Bokuto dropped his arms, standing straight, mouth agape.

"Dude, where did you get those teeth?" Kuroo asked, face scrunching in disgust. "You didn't get it from here, right?"

"What? No! I had these in my pocket!" he protested with difficulty, as the fangs stifled his speech.

"For how long?" Oikawa butted in. At that, Bokuto didn't answer.

Just pivoted on his heel and swept the curtain closed again. "I'll try on something else."


	5. Angels [Bokuto]

"You sure this shop has frog eyes?" Bokuto asked, bag containing his costume swinging at his side. Sometimes, it accidentally hit Oikawa, who sent him an annoyed glare but didn't bother to move aside. They walked side by side, heading down the street to walk a few blocks away from the costume shop.

It was evident that Oikawa was relieved to leave, but in truth, Bokuto had been pretty relieved as well. It took a lot of energy out of him to try out all those costumes. The fangs were wrapped up in a napkin, and with each step, would dig into his thigh. It had taken them two hours to find him something, and he had been pretty dismayed to find out that _he_ was the only one who needed a costume.

Apparently, his roommates already had theirs prepared.

Traitors.

"I'm pretty sure," Oikawa started, "This shop has everything. It's where I get my usual stash of blood. And I think this is where Kuroo gets his potions stuff too."

Bokuto pouted. "Too bad he couldn't come. Stupid lab paper," he grumbled, crossing his arms. The bag swung to hit Oikawa again, who heaved a heavy and exasperated sigh. He shot another glare at the bag.

The entrance to the shop wasn't as gloomy or terrifying as Bokuto had pictured. Instead, it was quite quaint and pleasant—walls painted white with a few plants sitting on display. If he had walked by without any knowledge of the shop, he would have thought it was a flower shop.

When they entered, the bell above chimed, and Bokuto tilted his head up to observe the old-fashioned bell that hung above. There was no one at the counter, so Oikawa stepped up to the register and rang the service bell.

At first, there was nothing, and then they both heard some shuffling come from the back room. The curtains parted, and to Bokuto's simultaneous delight and horror, the young man from his dream stepped into view.

His eyes were beautifully almond shaped and dark, carrying a languid, lethargic energy to them. And his hair, though a little longer than in his dream, curled at his neck, still soft-looking and called for Bokuto to run his fingers through it. His face was thin, thinner than what Bokuto could remember, and the rings under his eyes were dark, as if he'd gone a few days without sleeping.

What he didn't expect were the wings folded to his side, pristine and untainted. So bright, they encased his stranger in a faint halo.

He didn't remember that in the dream. To be fair, he was more preoccupied with the fact that he was _married_.

Subconsciously, his eyes flickered to the young man's left hand. It was devoid of a gold band, and he couldn't quite explain the pang of disappointment in his chest.

But that didn't stop him from grabbing onto Oikawa with a steel grip that had his roommate jump at the strength Bokuto was enforcing. Without another word, Bokuto dragged a helpless, confused Oikawa out of the shop, leaving the young man to watch them with his head cocked and his brows furrowed in confusion.

Outside and away from the shop's windows, Bokuto finally let go, and Oikawa stumbled from the lack of force. He righted himself and stared pointblank at him. "What the all that?" he asked, too confused and incredulous to treat Bokuto with the same level of irritation he held for him...and occasionally, Kuroo.

"That's him!" Bokuto half-whispered, half-exclaimed.

"What?"

"Him!" He jabbed a finger in the direction of the shop. "That's the guy the pendant showed me!"

Oikawa jut his head towards him, brows furrowed with eyes narrowed. He blinked in disbelief. "Him? Akaashi? Akaashi Keiji? The _angel_ , Akaashi Keiji?"

Wow, even his name was beautiful, and Bokuto sighed wistfully. And of course—of course Akaashi was an angel. Anything less would have been insulting to his beauty. Then he grabbed at his hair in panic, bag swinging to hit his back. "How does someone _that_ beautiful end up with _me_ , of all people?" he groaned.

Oikawa scrunched up his face. "I don't know either." At that, Bokuto smacked his arm. "Ow! Maybe start by saying hi? Then introducing yourself?" It was all so logical, so simple. Yet, like any piece of advice ever given to Bokuto, it was better said than done.

He groaned and hid his face in his palms. "It's hopeless," he wailed, "I'll just go home." He twisted without another word, and Oikawa grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"Oh no you don't. I dealt with your moping ass for the last twenty-four hours, so we're doing this whether you want it or not." The determination in his voice somewhat touched Bokuto. They'd been roommates long enough to know that though his words were harsh, there were good intentions underlying them.

He started to pull at him, and Bokuto resisted, letting his heels catch against concrete. The action jerked the pair, and they nearly toppled over.

"What now?" Oikawa snarled.

Bokuto cowered at his tone. "What do I say?" he asked, sincerely hoping Oikawa could help him just a _bit_ more.

His roommate sighed and brought up a hand to slap over his eyes. He took a deep breath and exhaled before revealing them again, staring tiredly at Bokuto's panicked demeanor.

"Just—I dunno. I'll help segue you into the conversation. Sound good?" he said. "Just remember to introduce yourself. Ask him about his day, ask for the frog eyes, ask him to go with you to the party on Halloween, for god's sake. It won't be too hard. You can invite him as friends if you want, you dolt."

Bokuto made a high-pitched keening noise as Oikawa threw up his hands in exasperation. "That's so direct!" he squeaked, gripping at his hair. It was a terrible habit, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop the action. This was going to mess up his styling, and he didn't need Akaashi to witness such a mess.

At the thought, his grip tightened, and he started to curl over, panicking hard. Oikawa's eye twitched even harder in response, and he stepped forward to launch a hand against Bokuto's side, catching him off guard. The action simultaneously tickled and winded him, and he nearly fell over in shock.

"Get yourself together!" Oikawa frowned. "You'll be fine. You can trust the pendant, right? Surely something goes right in your first meeting."

Oikawa had a pretty legitimate point, and the thought soothed his panicked demeanor. He nodded, feeling beads of sweat start to form at his hairline. Wiping them away, he took a few moments to compose himself. And when he righted himself, he took a deep breath.

"Ok, I can do this. I can be natural. It'll be all right." He repeated the mantra over and over again until he saw the composure on Oikawa's face start to crack.

"You can do this," his roommate said impatiently, folding his arms. "Are you good to go?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.shrimpyboke.tumblr.com)


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